


It takes a while

by futacookies



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Happy Ending, M/M, Slow Burn, mention of past unrequited ennotana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28240503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futacookies/pseuds/futacookies
Summary: «What about a fake boyfriend?», he suggests, enthusiastic.«Futakuchi-kun, just raise your arm.», Ennoshita says to stop him.«No, I mean it, it could actually work!»«And who’s supposed to be my sacrificial lamb?», Ennoshita asks, grabbing his elbow to slowly raise his arm.«Me?».Ennoshita Chikara is resigned to bear his mother’s pressure on him finding a girlfriend until Futakuchi Kenji, now his patient, offers to be his (fake) boyfriend. Between unresolved feelings and the omnipresent fear of screwing things up,what could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Ennoshita Chikara/Futakuchi Kenji
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25
Collections: Haikyuu Secret Santa 2020





	It takes a while

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! This fic was written for the haikyuu secret santa, for [@theEnnoshita](https://twitter.com/theEnnoshita) \- I hope you'll like it!!
> 
> Few things before jumping into the fic:  
> \- there is absolutely no reliable source used for physichal therapy (it's fiction, after all, i just have a grasp of what Ennoshita should be doing)  
> \- the fic is set right after the Adlers/MSBY game  
> \- there's a "Shirabu" mentioned which is supposed to be one of his younger brothers  
> \- depiction of family/family gathering might not be actual japanese tradition (then again, it serves fiction purposes)

Chikara thinks, not for the first time in his life, that, if by any chances his mother stopped meddling with his life ‒ sentimental or not ‒ he might actually visit every shrine in Tohoku, maybe even every shrine in Japan.

Right now he doesn’t even know what she’s talking about: he stopped listening to her somewhere between that new detergent for glass that he for sure won’t buy and his poor cooking skill ‒ nevertheless, his diet was perfectly balanced ‒ and he can hear her complaining about him not having a wife who could take care of this yet.

«Do you remember Mei-chan?», she suggests, and doesn’t wait for his answer, swiftly giving him notions he couldn’t care less about. «She’s always so polite, and so pretty-»

«Mom.»

«-and she already has a job, she’s a teacher and-»

« _ Mom. _ », he insists, exasperated. He lost count of the many dates she tried to set him up for behind his back ‒ due to some really unlucky coincidence, all her long time friends had daughters, and his mother thought it was her divine right to make him marry one of them. Him still being single was the bane of her existence.

«I’m way too busy for a relationship. Really. Last week I even took a job on the side to monitor the Shiratorizawa kids, do you think I could manage dating someone at the same time?»

His mother huffs unsatisfied. She looks at him like she used to right before letting him leave for school, searching for signs that something was missing or needed a quick fix ‒ in the end she gives up and rambles about his hair getting too long.

«If you hide behind your job, you’ll never find anyone.», she mutters, and then she gathers her coat and scarf and leaves, her tea barely touched. If his voice whispering  _ “let’s hope so” _ reaches her, she pretends not to hear it.

To be honest, he does not wish to be alone for the rest of his life ‒ he only needs a little time. Time to digest the only man he’s ever loved recently got married and time to tell his mother her dream of marriage and grandchildren will soon shatter because he doesn’t even like women. Not one bit. Not in the way she wishes him to. He just needs a little time.

  
  
  


Kenji stares at the trajectory of the ball about to surpass his head, then gives a quick look at the opponent’s wall ready to jump ‒ he doesn’t have enough time. If he goes for a parallel they’re going to block him and considering how much space they’re able to cover on the court, probably his cross will be blocked too. But, you see.  _ Mh _ . If he managed to get his spike past the third wall member, he could score. In any other situation he wouldn't be so focused on scoring, but if they win this match they’ll become the highest ranking team in their league and he  _ loves _ being better than anyone else, no point denying it.

So he jumps and turns and spikes at full force. The sound of the ball being smashed in their opponent’s side of the court and the shocked expression on their rivals’ face give him a familiar sense of satisfaction. He did it. He actually scored.

He goes to Aone ready to brag about how that was a play worthy of the first division league, the hell with the municipal team, but he suddenly feel nauseous and there are tears in his eyes and he’s holding onto his shoulder because  _ ouch _ , that shit hurts. It hurts so bad. Maybe the tight cross wasn’t his brightest moment, but he scored. He’d like to calm his coach down, telling him he just needs a short time out to get in top shape, but Aone is already reporting to the bench he’s going to need a substitute.

«You-», he starts, pointing a finger against him, «-traitor-», he adds, then he stops because the pain is so sharp he can’t even speak, «-I thought we were friends.», he finishes, Aone looks like he’s about to carry his dead weight on his shoulder to get him off the court.

Defeated, he sits on the bench. The only reason he doesn’t burst in tears it’s because he’s one of the younger players in the team and does not want to give to very senpais he constantly pesters a good reason to mock him ‒ his injure is definitely a not serious matter that Ennoshita will fix in just a couple weeks.

Mh. Ennoshita. Ennoshita is going to kill him.

  
  
  


«What did I tell you?»

Chikara, behind his desk, tries to sound as strict as he can. Futakuchi looks more annoyed by the incoming scold than by the injury or the everlasting pain in his right shoulder ‒ just one more reason to scold him. 

«Not to overwork my shoulder.»

«And what did you do?»

«I didn’t overwork my shoulder.»

« _ Futakuchi _ .»

«Okay, fine. Maybe I did.  _ A little _ .»

Futakuchi, sitting in front of him, stares like he’s waiting for a death sentence. Chikara is slightly tempted by the thought of telling him there’s no way to save his shoulder, but truth is the real issue lays in Futakuchi’s mind rather than in his arm: a month ago Futakuchi came in complaining about an ache in right shoulder and he clearly warned him that if he was to keep stressing that shoulder, chances were it could become injured.

And that’s exactly what happened.

Chikara massages his temples while searching for a way not to insult him so directly.

«If only you listened to me-», he starts, but Futakuchi waves his hand as to turn away his words.

«I didn’t.», he comments, annoyed. «No crying over spilled milk.», he adds, staring at him once again.

Though that is undeniably true, Chikara still is strongly tempted to handle him like one of his unruly former teammates.

«Well, since you didn’t listen-», he pauses and lets his disappointment become so obvious Futakuchi has to lower his gaze, then he goes on: «-I presume a two months stop might be necessary.»

Futakuchi gives him a vitriolic look. He’s probably pondering whether asking him if it’s a joke or not, but Chikara’s stern eyes leave no room to doubt. Taking advantage of Futakuchi’s silence, he continues: «You’ll also have to go through some therapy sessions, too.»

«Two months just  _ can’t  _ be right.», Futakuchi says after thinking about it for a while.

«Maybe you’re right and it should have been three months instead. Maybe I was feeling merciful.», he explains ironically. «Or maybe  _ not _ . Listen, I know the tournament is about to reach his peak ‒ don’t give me that look,  _ I know  _ ‒ but soon there’s going to be a break anyway and by the end of January you could even join your team during practices.»

Futakuchi opens then closes his mouth a couple times, as if he was trying to say multiple things at the same time, he raises his arm, points a finger at him, his arm falls back, he opens his mouth again but surrenders pretty quickly.

«Let there be therapy.», he accepts, defeated.

Chikara reserves him an appointment in a few days and then stares at Futakuchi’s back leaving. He can’t say he didn’t warn him. His shoulder was already in a precarious state and he pushed his luck until he ran out of it ‒ there isn’t much he can do for his clients, except trying to put them back in once piece once they start to fall apart.

  
  
  


«Try to raise your arm a little bit.», Ennoshita orders him, hand on his elbow to support him. Kenji bites his lips trying not to focus on the sharp pain ‒ if he doesn’t fully recover by the end of this season, the team will start playing with a different spiker and then he’ll be benched until the end of the tournament. He doesn’t think he can bear it.

«Have you seen the match?», he asks, just to distract Ennoshita from his now clear goal of making him suffer as much as he can while supposedly healing him.

«Mh?», Ennoshita, listening to him, finally lets go of his arm. The noticeable relief in his eyes reveals how agonizing the last few minutes were ‒ Ennoshita gives him a doubtful look before checking his agenda to give him another appointment.

«Ah, Hinata and Kageyama’s match.», he smiles, «Of course I saw it. It really was-», he interrupts himself, and severely warns: «Do not distract me. Now raise the othe-».

This time he’s interrupted by his ringing phone. Ennoshita stops, mortified, and starts rambling about the Shiratorizawa team manager who pesters him about Shirabu-kun's injured ankle. So he answers without even checking the name on display and then his face grimaces.

« _ Mom- _ », he begins, like he could scold his own mother. Kenji waves his hand to tell him he can take all the time he needs, and blesses to gods who put and end to that torture.

He doesn’t really pay attention to what Ennoshita is saying, only registering his annoyed voice and his much more annoyed face ‒ how can Ennoshita still look this pretty while annoyed is a mystery to him. He always liked his stupidly pretty face. He always liked him. Koganegawa once said they couldn’t keep having shared practice with Karasuno only, otherwise they would get too used to their playing style. Smart of him to say, really. And yet the next month they still were in their gym so he could exchange menacing pleasantries with Ennoshita while thinking about how he’d rather kiss him.

It was a silly high school crush ‒ even if years passed by, it still is nothing more than a silly crush. He never lost any sleep on it. He never daydreamt about a relationship they could have if only he wasn’t that much of a coward. But he still loves looking at him ‒ even if he’s pouting, even if he’s angrily shouting:  _ “No, mom, I won’t go out with Sakura-san!”. _

Kenji tries to eavesdrop on a few more words, but Ennoshita abruptly ends the call. He stares at him , curious, as if Ennoshita is actually going to explain what he just witnessed.

«My mother-», he starts, then stops. «Nevermind, you don’t really care.», he adds, recomposing himself. Futakuchi, just to save his poor arm, and  _ not _ because he’s suddenly really interested in the matter, tells him to keep going.

«She doesn’t accept that I’m-»

«Gay?», he proposes.

«- _ single. _ », Ennoshita says, overlapping on his word. He laughs.

«She doesn’t know I’m gay. Probably she doesn’t even care. She’d just stop hunting for a girlfriend and start hunting for a boyfriend instead.», Ennoshita thinks aloud.

«Would it be that awful, having a boyfriend?», he asks, trying to restrain himself from volunteering.

«I don’t want a boyfriend  _ now. _ », he complains. «Ryuu just got married and I don’t-»

«Ryuu? Baldy, you mean?», he asks, closing his eyes.

He always suspected Ennoshita had feelings for him because ‒ well ‒ he didn’t just look at his whole team with lovey-dovey eyes. He told Aone once ‒ and it wasn’t like Aone gave him much of an answer, he just slapped him on the head and told him to focus on practice instead.

«Yeah.», Ennoshita confirms ‒ he’s not embarrassed, just tired of this whole deal.

« _ Ouch _ .», Kenji answers, because he’s not completely tactless. «Tough shit.»

Ennoshita bursts into a little laugh. «Come on.», he urges, «Let’s raise this arm.»

Kenji allows him to get closer. His mother always reprimands him about the lack of connection between his brain and his mouth and about having no filter when it comes to talking bullshit. Therefore, really, he put very little thinking in his suggestion. The idea just came to him and he had no time to think about the many implications. He never was the one to waste time on leaflets. That was Aone’s job.

«What about a  _ fake  _ boyfriend?», he suggests, enthusiastic.

«Futakuchi-kun, just raise your arm.», Ennoshita says to stop him.

«No, I mean it, it could actually work: you just need someone to get rid of your mother’s pressure, someone you don’t have to get involved with while trying to get over-», he doesn’t really want to mention it, since it’s such a delicate matter ‒ despite what everyone say, he knows what tact is. He just prefers ignoring it.

«-Ryuu’s wedding.», Ennoshita finishes for him. He seems seriously pondering the offer. 

«Yes,  _ that _ .», he confirms.

«And who’s supposed to be my sacrificial lamb?», Ennoshita asks, grabbing his elbow to slowly raise his arm.

« _ Me? _ ».

  
  
  


It’s a terrible idea. He doesn’t even know why he accepted it ‒ actually, he perfectly knows why, he reflects, observing his mother drinking tea in front of him. But there are so many implications, so many things that could take a very bad turn, it’s almost not worth it.  _ Almost _ . In the end, it was Futakuchi who suggested it: Chikara didn’t even ask him, let alone force him. Sure, Futakuchi doesn’t look like the sort of guy whose plans are foolproof, but what could possibly go wrong? His mother will finally know the truth about him and ‒ even better‒ she’ll stop trying to set him up.  _ So _ .

So his mother accepted his invite for a tea with renewed enthusiasm, probably sure he finally accepted his fate ‒ she sure doesn’t expect what he’s about to say. Chikara feels like he’s carsick, with his stomach turning into a ball of anxiousness every passing second. It’s a terrible idea, but he still has the chance to make up something else to say. He can always tell Futakuchi-kun he wasn’t up to the task.

His mother’s cup clinkes so suddenly on the ceramic plate Ennoshita almost jumps up. His mother ignores his scare and gives him her best glance from when she’s about to start telling him of the latest unfortunate soul on her list.

«Chikara, dear, you’ll be happy to hear Hana-chan just came back from Tokyo. Now she’s working for a company in Sendai, do you remember how close you were as kids? Oh, you probably can’t. Anyway, I thought-»

He never was irrational. Nor impulsive. He never allowed himself to be moved by his feelings. He could just shut his mind out and let her talk for five more minutes about the best location for a successful date. There’s no need for him to open his mouth at this very moment ‒ yet he still does.

«There’s already someone, mom.», he reveals, all serious, almost admonishing his mother who doesn’t give much weight to his words.

«With Hana-chan, you say? No, darling, she broke up with her boyfriend  _ months  _ ago.»

He doesn’t really have to do this. He could just let the misunderstanding go and hope this whole story dies on its own. He could say he just remembered he has businesses he forgot about and quickly send her away. He doesn’t have to correct her.

«With  _ me _ , mom. There’s already someone.»

«Oh, dear!», she exclaims, delighted. 

Chikara, suddenly uncomfortable, drinks a few sips from his cup. It’s a terrible idea. It’s a terrible idea and he can no longer step back. It’s a terrible idea and he can no longer step back and he can’t even tell how he ended up like this.

«Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? Oh, I’m so glad-»

He should stop her. He should immediately clarify that in a few seconds she won’t be this glad anymore because he doesn’t have a girlfriend, he has no interest in marriage and she will never have grandkids. He let her rumble so much about setting him on dates because when she started it, six months ago, he was too hurt to fight it. And because he was afraid she’d stop looking at him with such adoring eyes the second she knew the truth ‒ much as he is now. But really, how longer can he allow it to continue?

Maybe Futakuchi’s offer was for the best. Maybe it’s exactly the little push forward he needed to overcome this obstacle. Maybe, who knows, his mother will be happy about it ‒ he’s sure she won’t make a big fuss nor disown him. But she’ll be disappointed. He doesn’t want to disappoin-.

«There’s a guy.», he rapidly admits. «I’m with a guy.», he slowly repeats ‒ it’s liberating. He wishes to say it again just to feel the weight fall off his shoulders once more.

His mother is paralized. She’s emitting a few undistinguished sounds from which he can only catch a  _ “Well, yes, uhm-” _ and  _ “Your aunt kept telling me that” _ and  _ “Not that I really care” _ which seems to finally settle the matter.

«Of course you are.», she kindly says. Chikara can’t even feel relieved that she adds: «Well then, when can I meet him?»

  
  
  


«So your mother wants to meet me?», he asks, slightly confused but overall amused by the situation.

«Can we talk about it  _ later _ ?», Ennoshita tries, pointing at the exercises he should be doing instead. Kenji happily ignores him.

«I’d say she took it well.», he comments, finally rotating his shoulder.

«It was  _ awful _ . Haven’t seen her this thrilled since I got my degree.», Ennoshita explains.

«Well ‒ of course ‒ landing a boyfriend such as myself surely is one of your greatest achievements. Dare I say even better than when you first qualified for the national tournament.»

«If you don’t shut your mouth I’ll personally make sure you’ll never be able to play volleyball again.», he threatens, and Kenji must stop himself from suggesting many nicer ways to silence him. As kissing him, for example. Or even-

Kenji stops that particular train of thoughts before it derails into many other thoughts that he’d rather not have with Ennoshita right before him. He focuses on his exercises and his next move.

«Would you like me to meet your mother?», he quickly asks. Ennoshita sighs ‒ he’s clearly not sure about it.

«Would  _ you _ like to meet my mother?», he questions instead. 

Maybe he’s caring for his feelings and doesn’t want to put him in an uncomfortable position. In the end, Ennoshita always tries to put everyone at ease, no matter the situation, but even more now that he thinks he’s doing him a favour ‒ if Kenji was a little less egoistic than he is, he could tell that is not a favour at all. He’s only doing it for himself.

«Ennoshita-»

«Yes, I know that’s the point, but-», he pauses, still unsure. Kenji might feel guilty about all this. « _ ugh _ . I wouldn’t want this to get out of control.»

«And how so? We could, I don’t know, go drink tea together, then I’ll convince her I’m perfect boyfriend material ‒  _ oi, don’t you laugh! ‒  _ and it’ll be all over quickly. Sounds good, doesn’t it?»

Ennoshita keeps dwelling on his words ‒ there are times when this guy thinks too much. It’s almost hard to believe he hasn’t yet discovered his true intentions. Kenji stares at his dark hair, the finest line on his forehead, his blushing cheeks due to the clinic’s overheating, his lips glued together ‒ sign that there’s probably something he wants to discuss.

«Futakuchi-kun?», he calls, making sure he keeps exercising, «What’s in it for you, out of this deal? I’ve been curious about it for a while.», he adds.

He should say it ‒  _ “you’re reading too much into this, Ennoshita.”  _ Maybe he should let him believe his philanthropic side took over and he couldn’t help but lend a hand. Not that anyone would be willing to believe him. Telling the truth is out of question, he’d get rejected and he’d put Ennoshita in the inconvenient position of explaining how his barely mentioned boyfriend suddenly disappeared. Therefore he chooses something in the middle ‒ a truly believable lie.

«Given how I can’t even go to practice, I have lots of free time. Got bored. Here I am!»

Ennoshita doesn’t seem convinced, but doesn’t dig in the matter any longer. Futakuchi, relieved, doesn’t bring the topic up anymore.

  
  
  


«Shortly: we met during our high school years», Futakuchi nods, «we lost touch», he’s still nodding, «and we met again last time you got injured.»

«Technically, it’s all true.», Futakuchi comments before Chikara could add: «And then we started dating.»

Futakuchi gives him a big thumb up. Chikara takes a few seconds to look at him ‒ he’s not dressed too formally, but seeing him in a different attire from his usual tracksuits it’s  _ weird _ . He doesn’t feel like it’s totally wrong ‒ just- out of place. Like he shouldn’t be there. And honestly, maybe he shouldn’t. Chikara shouldn’t drag him in his messy sentimental life, even if Futakuchi dragged himself there personally.  _ Got bored _ , he said. Chikara doesn’t think he’s being honest. Not that any of that matters, since his mother just entered in the lift. 

If he was a bit luckier ‒ a bit braver, he should say ‒ right now he might have had the chance to introduce an actual boyfriend to his mother: someone he loved since ever, someone who could have loved him back. He feels ridiculous, both because of this show and because of these thoughts leading him nowhere. Ryuu had his big wedding ‒ and he went there, swallowing pride, feelings and regrets ‒ and now has Kiyoko-san and a cute, little songbird who Sugawara-san teaches silly songs to. There’s nothing he can do to change that. Even just wishing he could is so egoistic of him.

«Enno-  _ Chikara _ .», Futakuchi shakes him. «The doorbell. Would it be too cheeky if  _ I _ opened the door?», he asks, while Chikara is already walking through the corridor. Futakuchi promised he’d be perfect ‒ he doesn’t believe that’s possible, but at least he hopes he tries.

His mother greets him with a big kiss on his cheek. He’s about to protest when Futakuchi ‒ when did he get by his side? ‒ bows magnificently, exclaiming how honored he is to finally meet her.

«Oh!», his mother reacts, surprised. She greets Futakuchi and then she leans towards him to whisper: «I like this one.»

From then on it’s just a bunch of  _ “which school did you attend?”, “what’s your occupation?”, “oh, you like volleyball as well!” _ so Chikara quietly draws back from the conversation.

He’s immersed in a comforting silence. He can hear Futakuchi talk about his injury, his job, his municipal team. He called him  _ Chikara _ . Yes, sure, they did choose to use names in place of surnames to make it all much more believable ‒ but the only friend who ever called his name so far was Noya. And Noya never had to pretend to have feelings for him. It was-  _ weird. _ Much like seeing Futakuchi in a button-up shirt rather than a tracksuit: it was  _ nice _ , sure, but nevertheless out of place.

«Chikara, did you hear me?», his mother asks. She’s impatiently looking at him while Futakuchi, in front of him, frantically suggests to nod.

«Y- No, I got distracted.», he admits. He has absolutely no idea what they were discussing and there’s no way he’s going to agree on anything beforehand. Futakuchi huffs and his mother shakes her head in disapprovement. 

«I was thinking you should introduce him to our family. Maybe on Yuki’s birthday?»

«On such short notice, though?», he puts on a little fight, «I’m  _ sure _ Kenji’s going to be busy.», he points out, kicking him under the table to make him second his statement. His mother isn’t interested at all in what he’s saying.

«Kenji-kun just said he was free.»

«Is he now?», he comments, sarcastic, staring at Futakuchi who smiles apologetically.

As his mother goes on about his little brother’s birthday party details, Chikara starts ruminating on what could go wrong. One thing was introducing him to his mother, relatively harmless, another was throwing himself at his family’s mercy. Besides, in a few weeks he was going to tell they broke up, and then literally everyone would know about how his relationship, serious enough to be made public on his own brother's birthday, just didn’t work out. It would be so embarrassing.

«It will be so embarrassing.», he announces as the door closes behind his back. Futakuchi isn’t even listening to him.

«Did you see that? She loves me!», he exclaims, as if Chikara didn’t just witness his mother giving them her very peculiar blessing.

«It will be a disaster.», he decides, rubbing a hand on his face.

«Shut up. She loves me.»

  
  
  


«You wore a shirt.», Ennoshita notices, getting closer.

«What is it with you and my shirts?»

«It’s nothing, really.», he explains, raising his hands, «Just weird.», he adds, shrugging.

Kenji drives to the main road, following Ennoshita’s directions. During the past week he spent every free minute ‒ and those when he was working, too ‒ daydreaming how things may change after this one night.

Maybe, if the rest of his family liked him as much as his mother did, Ennoshita himself would maybe look at him in a new, different light. Looking at him less like an annoying old friend he’s currently treating and more like a potential love interest. Maybe. If he was very lucky.

«I managed to find it, in the end.»

«Mh?»

«That action figure you told me about-  _ Deku _ ?»

«Mhh.»

«What a shitty name.»

Ennoshita laughs.

«Just don’t tell Yuki that.»

He’d like- he’d like to ask questions about his family. What are they like? Is there a way he can please so many different people? Or does he need to just impress some and avoid others?

Ennoshita chuckles again.

«You’re tense.», he observes.

Kenji doesn’t answer, he snorts instead. Of course Ennoshita doesn’t know ‒ nor  _ can _ know ‒ he has a crush on him and therefore all this, being introduced to his mother, meeting his whole family, being his (fake) boyfriend, is a big deal to him. So yeah, he’s tense. Just a little bit. Nothing that he couldn’t bear with a few sarcastic comments, but he also has to act like a golden boyfriend so ‒ he’s tense. Of course he is. He just hopes all that tension won’t stiffen his injured shoulder.

«Relax.», Ennoshita suggests. 

Kenji huffs, then he feels Ennoshita featherlight touch on his shoulder, familiar yet completely different from the usual professional situation. He breathes in, then out and Ennoshita must think he’s actually relaxing when he’s just making a desperate effort to focus on the road in front of them rather than on Ennoshita’s warm hand brushing his arm.

«Even if no one likes you, in a couple weeks I’ll say we broke up and in a few months you’ll be completely forgotten.», he adds, light hearted. 

Kenji notices the stoplight turning red at the last second and suddenly stops, his foot smashing the brakes, his ears filled with the noise of protesting clacson and his mind tragically stuck on Ennoshita’s last words. He’s never been the one for self-criticism, nor he wants to start it today, though he can’t help but think this was, in fact, a bad idea. No amount of luck could ever change Ennoshita’s feelings for him.

«It was-», Ennoshita starts, ready to lecture him.

«Dangerous. Yes, I know, I know.», he stops him before he can speak. «Sorry.», he immediately says, «I got distracted.», he apologises.

He should say he was distracted by the shiny shop windows on the side of the road, he should make up an excuse, crack a joke while he can, just to loosen up the building tension around them. Ennoshita doesn’t say a word though, and they both stay silent until they reach their destination.

«You’re still tense.», Ennoshita tells him once he’s out of his car.

Kenji should mutter  _ “yeah”  _ and acts like the last twenty minutes never happened. He tightens his coat to hide any more tension from Ennoshta’s trained eyes. He doesn’t want to drag this awkward silence into the rest of the evening.

«Hey.», he calls him, and Ennoshita turns right before knocking.

He stretched his arm forward so Ennoshita could take his hand, if wanted to. He may refuse, sure ‒ but he should at least know his hand’s there, ready to be held. Ennoshita gives him a tenderly annoyed look and his arm falls immediately back to his side. Ennoshita turns his back to knock and a few seconds later his arm is reaching back out to him and Kenji doesn’t have to think twice before intertwining their fingers.

From then on the evening is smooth sailing, no one questions them and if there are few curious glances towards them, it’s not like Kenji really cares. They end up talking to some cousin whose name Kenji can’t remember at all ‒ but until then, to be fair, he was exceptionally good. He avoided any nasty comment, even if he has all of them noted in his mind and will proceed to tell Ennoshita once they get out. He even managed to please the little brother enough to get invited to his next school play. A total win.

Until someone asks: «So, how did you meet?»

  
  
  


Chikara almost chokes on his drink. Sure, they rehearsed it, but they were almost invisible the whole night, lost in silly chats, and he was caught by surprise. He glances at Futakuchi, still obviously tense ‒ at least to him, who was many times tempted by the thought of getting closer to try and calm him down.

«During high school-», Chikara begins, hoping to swiftly move the topic on their shared volleyball career rather than on their (non-existent) relationship.

«Oh, it’s _ that  _ serious?», someone else asks and Chikara doesn’t even have time to answer  _ “Not really” _ , that another voice rises from the noise: «So  _ he _ was the guy you had a crush on?»

He quickly glances at Futakuchi’s pained grimace ‒ there, if only he’d let him fix his shoulder, maybe now he would be so bothered. Then he needs to focus on the curious faces staring at him, waiting for an answer. It’d be easy saying yes and making up things along the way, but he’s never been good with lying about his true feelings: he may be faking a whole relationship, but if someone asked him straight away if he loved Futakuchi, his answer might not be as believable.

«No.», he says, «That’s- that’s a different story.»

There’s already a background of buzzing voices, when those are silenced by a single clap of hands. Futakuchi, now standing by his side, asks: «Do we have hanafuda cards? I bet I can beat you all at  _ koi koi. _ »

Futakuchi’s trying not to sound too provocative ‒ and he’s miserably failing. Suddenly, the room where all the too-old-relatives to be included in a group of fourth-graders got locked up becomes very animated. A bunch of chairs is quickly gathered and the buffet table is emptied so they can sit and play. In a few minutes Chikara is seated right by Futakuchi, much more comfortable now that he can rile up and annoy his family.

Truth be told, he wins enough sets to keep teasing his opponents. Chikara looks at him acting like a child, pouting the few times he loses, loudly exulting whenever he wins ‒ and yet, the same guy who’s now making a big fuss over having bad cards didn’t hesitate when it came to sweep all the attention away to give him room to breathe. 

It was  _ kind _ . As much as it was kind offering to put on this show to get his mother pressure off long enough to get over Ryuu’s wedding ‒ but he’s been so busy, between work and work and introducing Futakuchi to his mother, and then his brother's birthday, more work again that he hasn’t sulked about that in days. Not even by mistake. Not until someone brought it up. Even now that he’s thinking about it, his regret is nothing more than a dull ache ‒ it doesn’t matter anymore, even if he’s not able to ignore it yet. He just needs time, that’s what he told himself. Sometimes he wonders how much more time is he going to need until he can just give it a bittersweet smile and not a second thought ‒ rather than experiencing a scorching defeat for a feeling he wasn’t strong enough to fight for and-

_ He fell asleep.  _ Chikara opens his eyes and the first thing he sees are Futakuchi’s great cards ‒ and that’s because while sleeping he shifted on his shoulder and now he can feel Futakuchi’s arm around his waist. If they were actually together, he’d get flustered. Instead he just raises his head and whispers: «How’s your shoulder doing?»

Instinctively, Futakuchi tightens the grip on his waist before slowly pulling his arm away.

«Which one? The injured one or the one where you slept on ‒ with your considerable weight ‒ for the last hour?»

«Mhh-», he comments, rubbing his eyes, «your pick.»

Futakuchi gives him a weak smile before winning another set. 

«Alright.», he announces. «It’s time to go.»

A few protests are raised as they go fetching their coats. His mother promises him she’s going to send him all the pictures she took that night and then tells him to get closer. Futakuchi, already with his shoes on, goes straight to his car.

«You were quite  _ serene _ tonight.», she observes, fixing his hair, «I’m happy for you.»

There isn’t much he can say at the moment ‒ right now he feels so guilty he might burst into tears, but he just smiles and nods and walks away as fast as he can. The cold December air slaps him. Now, safe from prying eyes, there’s no need to keep the act on ‒ Futakuchi is no longer his boyfriend and his serenity helplessly falls like a sand castle. He feels dizzy ‒ confused? ‒ maybe because he just woke up, or maybe because his feelings got even more intricate.

  
  
  


«Now that I think about it, my shoulder really hurts.», Futakuchi complains as he gets in the car.

«Don’t you tell me. Maybe because you were tense all night long?»

Futakuchi huffs and starts driving. This time, they slip in a peaceful silence ‒ Chikara gives some commentary here and there and can’t help but admit: «You actually did amazing. I wouldn’t bet one cent on you.»

«And it wasn’t even that hard.», he gloats. «I begged Moniwa-san for advice to be less like-», he pauses, struggling to find the right words, « _ me _ ?», he tries, then adds: «He was so happy he cried. But then I was thinking too much about it and got all stiff.»

Chikara smiles at the thought. At first he didn’t believe it would work: sure, Futakuchi promised he’d be good, but he got so caught up in his role and only later come back to himself ‒ this Futakuchi might be different from the one his mother first met, but at least he was polished enough not to fight anyone. He’s been-  _ ideal _ . So ideal that when he woke up he didn’t worry about pulling away or clearing what a misunderstanding that could be. He thought he could stay like that much longer. He thought it was pleasant ‒ reassuring, almost.

Once they get to his place, Futakuchi stops the car and waits for him to get off. Chikara hesitates ‒ he just wants to return the favour. 

«Do you want to come up?», he suggests.

« _ What? _ », Futakuchi reacts, his breath suddenly short.

«What?», he asks instead, trying to look for an explanation. «I thought your next appointment is in six days, and your shoulder is so stiff and it’s also my fault, so the least I could do is treating you.», he says in a rush.

Futakuchi blushes and stares at him doubtfully and it’s clear he thinks that’s not a good idea, but in the end he surrenders and parks the car.

«So-», Futakuchi begins, after removing his shoes.

«The couch is over there. Take off your shirt», he orders, then he disappears to retrieve some pomade.

Once he’s back in his tiny living room, the dim light covers Futakuchi in a way that just can’t be right. Otherwise the turmoil in his stomach would remain unjustified.

«Does it happen often?»

«Mhh?», he asks, caught by surprise. He was still staring ‒ there are boundaries that can’t be stepped on, back at his clinic, but those same boundaries simply don’t apply to his apartment. The aseptic austerity of the cold lamps leaves room to a much warmer and forgiving light.

«I mean-», Futakuchi explains, «do you often invite guys at your place and then tell them to undress?»

«No»., he answers, slowly massaging his shoulder. «That’s a special treatment for guys who pretend to be my boyfriend.»

«Good».

They stay silent for a few minutes, the only noises are Futakuchi’s painful groans ‒ and Chikara isn’t working from the most comfortable position either so he complains as well from time to time.

«Anyway-», he goes, just to start a conversation, «thank you, for tonight. You know, thank you for this whole thing.», he adds, sitting on his couch.

«No worries.», Futakuchi tells him, then gets up to put his shirt on while Chikara keeps talking: «I never was good with feeling. I thought no one would believe us.», he confesses, smiling. «But they thought we’ve been together since high school!», he exclaims, laughing. 

« _ Yeah. _ », Futakuchi does not laugh. His face is strained and he suddenly looks ‒ tired? angry? ‒ different from before. Chikara probably said something stupid without even noticing it. Futakuchi walks fast to the door and he chases him.

«Wait!», he grabs his wrist before he leaves the room. «Fut-  _ Kenji _ . What-?»

«Don’t- do not give me that. Don’t say  _ anything. _ You- you do things to me and you don’t even realise it. I-. It’s always been like that.», he complains. 

Chikara has some sort of epiphany. Suddenly, every single thing happened in the past few weeks makes sense. The very fake boyfriend offering makes much more sense. He blushes furiously. He feels embarrassed ‒ and he feels guilty. Gods, he feels so guilty. He shouldn’t have accepted his idea. Sure, back then he couldn’t imagine Futakuchi had feelings for him ‒ not for so long. Well, maybe it wasn’t that serious, maybe it’s not that serious even now. Maybe it’s just attraction and if they don’t see each other for a few months he’ll be fine. He feels guilty, yet he can’t deny a strong sense of tenderness making its way into his heart.

He tugs a little on his coat sleeve and Futakuchi lets himself be pulled in.

«Since high school?», he questions, almost worried. Futakuchi looks pained. He doesn’t answer, just stares at his hand anchored at his sleeve.

Chikara’s other hand fondly cups his cheek ‒ and then, surely moved by the flow, by this vulnerable moment they’re sharing, by the certainty he won’t be rejected, he kisses him. Futakuchi lets out a choked noise, half panic half surprise, then kisses him back with such intensity to push him with his back against the wall.

In that very second, there’s nothing but Futakuchi’s arm enveloping him, his own hands in Futakuchi’s hair, pulling him much closer than he thought possible. His mind, his soul, his heart, everything’s shifting in a different direction, towards Futakuchi, closer to him, until for the first time since the whole fake dating ordeal started something finally feels right ‒ not weird, not awkward, not out of place, not even ideal. Just as it should be. It’s liberating and he feels so much lighter now ‒ so much better, much happier, more  _ serene _ .

He pulls away for a second, just to tell him so, already desperately missing his lips. But he meets Futakuchi’s fearful eyes and he’s drifting away before he has a chance to speak. Chikara looks at him alarmed but he seems to slip through his fingers.

«Sorry. I have to go.», he apologies.

Chikara stares for minutes at the door, after he disappeared, wondering if he’s now paying the price for so many years wasted on feelings he now can barely recall having.

  
  
  


He ran away. Much like a coward, thinking he might get rejected, he fled without giving it a second thought ‒ now though he still has to face everything he wasn’t brave enough to bear six days ago.

Ennohsita was radio silent during this days: they don’t usually text between an appointment and the other, but these days were made out of agonizing waiting ‒ he doesn’t really want to face Ennoshita, not when he can still taste his soft lips and clearly remember their body pressed together, memories that haunt his mind. He made a mess and now, standing outside Ennoshita’s door, is tempted by the idea of calling the appointment off and staying with an injured shoulder for the rest of his life. Or maybe just find another therapist ‒ the thought of Ennoshita’s gentle yet firm touch would make that impossible.

So he opens the door wishing to talk about it, to explain himself, to get that chance he never was bold enough to ask for and he denied himself.

«Ennoshita-», he tries, but he’s immediately silenced.

«Futakuchi-kun, these are your exercises for today.»

He nods and obeys, quiet, barely interrupted by Ennoshita’s voice telling him to move his arm and shoulder differently. It’s a slow and awful torture ‒ not only physical: every breathe he takes seems wrong, every second passing leads him further away from confessing his feelings.

Ennoshita doesn’t even look at him ‒ not really. He observes inattentive his form, he corrects him, sure, but his eyes avoid him, moving constantly from one side of the room to another, until the distance between them start seeming impossible to close.

That’s not what he wants, not after having a taste of what’s like to have Ennoshita’s love: a love which he should be willing to take a risk for, just this once ‒ and if he is to be rejected, as he thinks, as he fears, as he imagined the last few days until he lost his sleep, then so be it. He’ll accept it. There are battles meant to be lost and feelings meant not to be reciprocated. Ennohsita will pretend he never said anything about it and he’ll be back to his placid high school crush. He’ll be fine, he’ll move on.

«Ennoshita-», he tries again, more determined ‒ Ennoshita, already safely hidden behind his desk, gives him a stern look.

«Futakuchi-kun, stop worrying. We’ll pretend that  _ incident _ never happened. I’ll tell my mother we broke up and we’ll leave this story behind us. Deep down we both knew it wouldn’t work out.», he explains. 

«But- the school play- Yuki-», he weakly protests. 

«It doesn’t matter anymore.» 

His grave voice leaves no room for replies. Futakuchi briefly nods ‒ after all, it’s his fault ‒, takes another appointment and while he leaves he doesn’t even manage to apologize, because he doesn’t really feel guilty about what happened. Sure, he’s sorry he screwed this up, but if he could turn back time he’d still offer to be his boyfriend, if only to steal one more kiss.

Only while walking down the corridor, walking away, he realises how stupid this is: far from Ennoshita’s cold, judgemental stare and and far from all the distance he made sure to put between them, Kenji doesn’t think he can further mess this up. It was his fault ‒ sure ‒ and now it’s up to him to fix it ‒ of course ‒ and Ennoshita can’t take this from him.

He rapidly walks back, pushes away the next client, about to enter, making up excuses about a forgotten scarf and he opens the door wide, closing it delicately soon after. Ennoshita gives him a hallucinated look right before he starts speaking.

«Please don’t tell your mother we broke up.»

Okay, that sounded so much better in his head. Ennoshita keeps staringlike he just told him aliens are real.

«Just don’t.», he insists, pleading, «I don’t want you to.», continues, petulant.

«Futak-»

«Shh. Let me finish.», he orders, so he won’t be interrupted again. «Yes, I had a crush on you ‒ I honestly think you were the only one who didn’t notice ‒ but it wasn’t that serious.»

«What the hell are you talking ab-», Ennoshita protests.

«Not done yet. When I suggested the boyfriend thing ‒ well, to be honest back then I didn’t think it was a bad idea, simply because I didn’t put much thought into it.», he innocently admits.

Ennoshita struggles to keep up with him: his eyes dart from him to his watch, because he’s probably delaying all the other scheduled appointments ‒ not that he really cares about that.

«You’re not making any sense.», he notices, and Futakuchi has to agree: all that talking won’t lead them anywhere.

«What I want to say is that I like you. I always did. I think I might love you ‒ I think you might love me back. That's all there’s to it.»

Ennoshita abruptly gets up and rushes to him. Kenji thinks absentmindedly that he could choose to punch him ‒ and rightfully so. Instead Ennoshita grabs him by the collar of his sweatshirt just to lower him the ten centimeters he needs to kiss him comfortably.

Kenji, astonished, kisses him back, allowing Ennoshita’s hands under his clothes so he can take a hold of his neck. There’s no more guilt, no more fear of screwing things up, no more thoughts of losing him. He feels light-headed. And extremely stupid.

«You-», Ennoshita begins, barely pulling away. «-are-», he keeps going, but can’t continue because Futakuchi instinctively follows his lips, kissing him once again, «-so stupid.», he finishes, stepping away from him. 

He’d like to say something, to ask for an explanation of what just happened and he’s about to do that, but the second he opens his mouth someone violently knocks on the door.

«Come on! How long does it take to retrieve a scarf?»

Ennoshita burst laughing before recompsing and telling him to go away. Kenji complies, apologising for the delay with the next client, who is obviously glaring at him and his lack of scarves.

So it’s done ‒ and it went well, didn’t it? Sure, Ennoshita didn’t actually give him a clear answer, just that he’s  _ so stupid _ , but the way he said it almost made him feel butterflies in his stomach. They can calmly discuss things another time, once they’re safe from impatient clients and their own insecurities.

Right before he gets in his car, his phone rings in his pocket. There’s a text, sent by Ennoshita, saying:  _ “you know, I might really love you” _

__

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you like it, please leave a comment/kudos and follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/futacookies)!


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